


what happens on coruscant stays on coruscant

by orphan_account



Series: morally ambiguous sharpshooter au [1]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Coruscant (Star Wars), Humor, Kissing, M/M, Mercutio is a little shit, Mild Gore, Minor Violence, benvolio just wants to do his job, jedi!benvolio, jedi!romeo, mercutio gets in the way of that, morally ambiguous sharpshooter!mercutio, takes place between s3e20: citadel rescue and s3e22: wookiee hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Benvolioreallydoesn't want to explain to Master Plo how he lost his lightsaber.
Relationships: Mercutio/Benvolio Montague
Series: morally ambiguous sharpshooter au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637569
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	what happens on coruscant stays on coruscant

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](https://benvulio.tumblr.com/post/160214176135) tumblr post

Benvolio couldn’t stand Coruscant.

He hated the surface, the underworld, and most importantly the constricting Jedi Temple, to which he had been ordered to rest in until he was cleared for active duty. In the meantime, his master Plo Koon was off, halfway across the galaxy, taking the 104th to Felucia.

To be fair, keeping him on Coruscant was incredibly reasonable, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t complain a little bit. After all, he very nearly died over Lola Sayu, having a vulture droid come out of his blind spot and shoot the wing of his fighter. Narrowly managing to maneuver the fighter into the hangar of the _Guardian,_ he spent the trip back to Coruscant in a bacta tank, and woke up three days later in the healing halls of the Temple, learning that Master Plo had already been sent back out to the battlefield. It was a week before Master Che would let him out to wander the Temple and meditate, and another week after that before he was allowed light exercise with his saber.

He spent some of this time with his cousin Romeo, who was still in the creche waiting on a master to train him. Still, living on a battlefield for the past two years made him restless, wanting to do _something,_ and so when the council asked for Padawans to shadow the Coruscant Guard for a week, Benvolio was the first to put his name on the list. 

The first day introduced him to Commander Fox and Senate guard duty. He spent the day overseeing a Senate meeting, escorting the senators in and out of the building. By the time he returned to the Temple, he had only one thing on his mind- Fox _really_ didn’t like him, and he had no idea how the rest of the Guard would react. The posting was turning out to be worse than he expected.

That being said, he was confused on the fourth day when he was suddenly switched to shadow Commander Thorn and the battalion of the Guard responsible for police duty and riot control. It was _so_ much better, partially due to the fact that Thorn had an actual personality and partially due to the fact that he wasn’t just holed up inside the Senate Building all day. 

“There’s been reports of a string of murders on level 1645, in the Entertainment District. All connected to the same person. Our job is to bring them in, alive.” Thorn briefed him and the small squad of troopers they had brought with them. The police transport they were on reached a crossroads, and slowly started to descend into the Underworld. Benvolio leaned against the side of the transport, robes whipping around him in the polluted air. 

The transport landed on level 1645, and Benvolio sank into the Force as Thorn led him and the troopers to the latest murder scene. The evidence taped off, the troopers split off to investigate elsewhere, while Benvolio approached the scene. He liked doing forensic work due to his abilities with psychometry, which made the process a heck of a lot easier.

A bloodstain on the wall of an alley. Blaster burns in the duracrete. It wasn’t much, but he could work with it, placing his hand on the wall.

Flashes of the crime appeared to him. A young Tholothian woman, cornered. Three shots ringing out across the alley, two missing their mark. The culprit, bashing her skull in with his blaster. But more than that, he now had a signature to follow.

He now had a lead. 

Benvolio activated his comlink, notifying Thorn of the information he had gathered before reaching out even further with the Force, meditating on the signature he had found at the crime scene. Tracking it to a local club, he managed to apprehend and arrest the man, leading him outside as Thorn and the other troopers pulled up in the transport. Thorn congratulated him, and even though the Commander had a helmet on, Benvolio could hear the grin in his voice. 

That’s when everything went to shit.

The man, who had previously been standing rigid in his hold, jerked, then slumped against Benvolio. One of the troopers let out a cry of alarm, and Thorn drew his blaster, whipping around in search of _someone,_ his kama rippling at his hips. Benvolio turned the man towards him, confused, and gasped as he saw the hole through the center of the man’s head, dropping the body.

Someone had shot him.

“There!” one of the troopers yelled. Benvolio looked up to where he was pointing, and saw a figure in black slip away into the building he was situated on. He ran, mindful of his still healing leg, and used the Force to propel himself up to where he saw the culprit just seconds ago. He turned the corner and-

The killer was gone. Benvolio searched the area, but there was no trace of them. He turned to comm Thorn when his captain, Thire, came running into the building, panting.

“Are all Jedi this hard to keep up with, sir?”  
  


Benvolio smiled. “Only the good ones.”

* * *

The next two days’ work yielded similar results. A call for a domestic violence case on level 1586 found the suspect with both of his eyes blown out. The victim was unfortunately dead, so Benvolio, Thorn, and Thire took their men to the next call.

A minor drug lord on level 1789: dead, a shot through the head made with a slugthrower. Her blood was all over the spice she had been transporting, rendering it useless. Benvolio sent two troopers to take the crates back to base, requesting a blood sample to be taken so they knew who she was.

A rapist, lying on the ground next to his shaken victim. When Benvolio went to interview her, she said that the person who killed him had been wearing all black, and had been wielding two ancient pistols and a modified rifle. He already knew, when he turned over the body, that the shot would be made clear through the eye. He met up with Thorn, Thire, and the rest of the company, who had taped off the area and delegated the case to the Underworld Police.

“Change of plans,” Benvolio said. “We need to find the… mercenary who’s doing this. They’re making our job harder, and quite frankly, it’s annoying. I suggest we split up and cover different segments of the district, since they don’t appear to be moving away from the area.”

The troopers nodded in assent. Benvolio continued.

“Lieutenants, take your platoons and investigate each quadrant of this level. Comm me if you find anything suspicious. Thorn, Thire, come with me.”

The two officers followed him as he ducked under the police tape. He touched the bullet hole in the dead man’s head, and was assaulted by an onslaught of feelings and visions. But unlike the last time he had done that, he found no Force signature.

“Dammit,” he muttered. He turned back to the troopers. “We’re going to have to look the hard way.”

Benvolio led the two men out onto the streets of the Entertainment District, lined with strip clubs and bars, the lights from the signs flashing onto the street. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, it was dark, as the light from the surface didn’t penetrate this deep into the underbelly of the planet. While the upper levels of the Entertainment District held casinos and other “high class” establishments, the lower the level, the seedier the joints. Benvolio averted his eyes as a man made out with a prostitute against the outside of one such club, and Thire snorted.

They continued to walk, watching the flashing lights grow brighter and brighter until they were in the epicenter of the district, surrounded by people and stores and bars. Thorn looked around, then muttered, “Commander, I don’t think we’re gonna find anyone in this crowd. We should move to a less populated area.”

Benvolio sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

They turned to go back the way they came, when Benvolio was suddenly struck by a feeling. He turned his head, and he could feel the Force, saying _Come here, child._ He slipped away from the two troopers, and followed the Force, trying to find where it was guiding him. 

He followed it down a street, and then down to an alley, where he came upon a body. The woman was on her back, eyes open, but dead, as the hole in her head was slowly leaking blood. Benvolio sent out a signal to the platoons, before running down the alley, as the Force apparently had more to show him.

The alley intersected into another one, and he turned left, still following the Force. He crossed a street, and then another one, before the Force suddenly silenced itself. 

Benvolio looked around in confusion, before cautiously heading further into the alley. He found nothing except for used needles and an overflowing dumpster, but something told him he was being watched.

“Hello?” he called out. When nothing answered except the echo of his voice, he shrugged and turned to go meet up with his troopers.

The Force sung behind him, and in a split second Benvolio whipped around, igniting his lightsaber and sawing the blaster rifle pointed at his head in half, the purple blade making a blinding arc in front of him. The end of the rifle dropped to the ground, molten metal starting to cool, and the owner of the rifle stared at him from behind their mask.

“Kriffing hells, man! I spent two months modding that thing!”

Benvolio blinked, not expecting the voice to be so… _distorted_. “You… what?”

“I mean, the rifles the Grand Army uses are shit, so when your only option for a weapon is to scour a battlefield for a deecee-fifteen, you better put in some work making sure the thing can actually aim! Any missed shots, and my marks go running.”

Benvolio side-eyed him warily, keeping his lightsaber in front of him in case the stranger tried anything. Then, it clicked.

“You’re the mercenary we’ve been looking for!”

“Oh, mercenary’s far too strong of a word, darling. I’d prefer something more… elegant.” 

“Well, no matter what you are, I’m going to have to arrest you.”

The stranger blinked, just now taking in the lightsaber held towards him, and the braid that was tucked behind Benvolio’s right ear, the two beads on it clinking together softly.

“Oh. You’re a Jedi.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” Benvolio quipped sarcastically. The stranger snorted, the sound coming out scratchy through the mask as they gave the Padawan a once-over.

“A pretty one, too. Tell me, do all Jedi have an ass like that, or are you just special?” 

The remark caused Benvolio to flush a deep red and sputter as he tried to speak, the stranger just laughing all the while, the sound mechanical and harsh through the mask’s vocoder. Benvolio, still blushing, brought the tip of his lightsaber directly underneath their chin, and they stopped laughing.

“Take the mask off. Now.”

“And why should I listen to you, darling?”

“You’ve committed five murders in the past three days. Off.”

“You should be thanking me, all of them were criminals. Murderers. Rapists. I’m making this hellhole a better place.”

“You’re doing nothing but interfering with the law. If you really cared about justice, you’d work with the police, not against them.”

The stranger stared at him for a moment from behind the mask, before reaching up and sliding it off of their face.

He was human, around Benvolio’s age. His blond hair reflected the purple light of the lightsaber as he dropped the mask on the ground. He brought his hands up at around chest level, in a surrendering position, before looking up through his lashes and smirking at Benvolio, green eyes full of mischief.

Benvolio vaguely realized that his throat had gone dry as he shut off his lightsaber and clipped it on his belt. 

“Commander Montague!”

Thorn’s voice distantly rang out across the alley, causing Benvolio to startle and look behind him. The stranger snorted.

“You’re wanted, _Commander._ ”

Benvolio should’ve seen the move coming, but he was too enamoured by the stranger’s almost melodic voice, freed from the vocoder, to pay attention to the Force screaming at him to _watch out!_ The stranger pushed, knocking Benvolio over and slamming him into the wall. In an instant, he was there, pushing the Padawan up against the wall with his arm across his throat. Benvolio struggled, but the stranger stayed still, applying the smallest amount of pressure onto his throat, a smug smile on his face.

“Oh, how the tables have turned. I thought you Jedi were smarter than this.”

Benvolio blushed. “I…”

“Commander!” Thorn was closer now, but still not close enough to see his predicament, as no one was pulling the stranger off of him.

“They’re looking for you, darling. Should I let you run to your dear troopers?”

“You’re in no position to be making decisions.”

“ _I’m_ the one holding _you_ up against a wall. I think I have every right to tell you what to do.”

“Benvolio!”

At the sound of his name, Benvolio started. A huge grin spread across the stranger’s face. 

“Benvolio, huh?”

The Padawan’s blush deepened at the tone of the stranger’s voice, who leaned in to murmur into his ear.

“A pretty name for a pretty Jedi.”

Benvolio swallowed. “Let me go.”

“In due time, darling. Might I give you a parting gift?”

The arm left his throat, and before Benvolio could run or speak, there was a pair of lips on his, kissing him. The stranger’s arms looped around his waist, and held him there for several seconds. 

He didn’t know what to do. He’d never kissed anyone before, what with the _no attachments_ rule and all that. But before he could try kissing back, the arms disappeared from around his waist, and the lips disappeared from his own. The stranger looked back, lips slightly pink, and smiled.

“I hope to see you again, Benvolio.” He stepped back, grabbed his mask and the pieces of his rifle, and slipped into the darkness of the alley.

Benvolio stood against the wall for a moment, before processing what had happened and bringing his fingers up to his lips, touching them. 

The kiss was… _nice._

“Commander! There you are!”

Benvolio turned around to see Thire and Thorn rushing towards him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the clones.

“Sir, you can’t just… run off like that! The Jedi would’ve had our heads if anything happened to you!”

“Commander, why are you all red?”

Benvolio waved off both of their concerns. “I… uh… never mind. We should be heading back to base anyways.” He turned to call a transport, when Thorn spoke up.

“Commander, your lightsaber is missing.”

Benvolio looked down. No lightsaber.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Benvolio walked out onto the landing platform with Romeo. He saw Masters Windu and Yoda, talking with a Wookiee and a bounty hunter, as well as Master Plo and Anakin Skywalker, surrounded by three Padawans, one of whom they both recognized.

“Ahsoka!” Romeo cried out, rushing towards the dirt-covered Togruta and hugging her. The two Jedi beside her turned, and Anakin smiled as he saw Benvolio.

“Nice to know you made a full recovery.”

Benvolio shrugged. “My leg’s still giving me a bit of trouble, but I’ll survive.” 

Anakin nodded and turned to Ahsoka, who was talking fervently with Romeo. Master Plo turned, the sides of his mask coming up in what Benvolio had learned was a grin, and said, “Wolffe and the men are ready to leave for the Outer Rim tomorrow.”

Benvolio froze. He completely forgot about returning to the front. “Um, shipping out might have to wait.”

“Is that so?”

He swallowed. _What would his master think when he finds out that he lost his lightsaber?_

“Yeah, my, uh, leg’s still acting up a tiny bit. But I promise, I’ll be good to go in a week, that’s all I need.” 

Shit. He’d always been bad at lying, it wasn’t in his nature. Romeo was always the one to spin wild stories and somehow get away with it whenever they snuck around the Temple when they were younger. And judging by Master Plo’s demeanor, he could tell that the Padawan wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Benvolio.” 

_Uh oh._ He turned. “…Yes, Master?”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Anakin and Ahsoka were looking at him now, as well as Romeo, who was barely holding in laughter.

“Well… I… um-”

“Just spit it out already, Benny!” Romeo yelled, a huge grin on his face. Benvolio blushed, muttering a quick _shut up!_ at his cousin before turning back to his master, a sheepish look on his face.

“I… mayhavelostmylightsaberwhileyouweregone?”

Romeo couldn’t take it anymore, and burst out laughing. Master Plo paused for a second, before just sighing and shaking his head.

“Benvolio…” 

**Author's Note:**

> benvolio is roughly 16 here, and romeo is the same age as ahsoka (15).
> 
> mercutio is the same age as benvolio.
> 
> follow me on [tumblr!](https://tybalt-exe.tumblr.com/)


End file.
